Prologue

London, 1811

It wasa rare day when a disturbance could interfere with Giles Wexham’s pursuit of pleasure, but the presence of a ghost hovering at the door of Huntley House’s guest bedchamber proved a real distraction for the Earl of Daventry.

The delicate specter shimmered at the edge of the room, neither writhing nor moaning, but watching with an intensity that would disturb if she were made of flesh and bone.

Until now, Giles had never seen a ghost. He had always supposed these visions were the product of a bored mind, but he had to admit that being the subject of a ghost’s attention was not as frightening as he’d always heard. In fact, Giles found it downright arousing.

The little wraith seemed to float, and he wondered if a strong puff of air would dismiss her. A halo of wispy, white-blonde hair hung around her pale face and cascaded over her shoulders to her waist, disordered, as if just raised from sleep or the grave.

Delicate lips formed an O as her gaze dropped low to the woman on her knees before him. He grew harder, if that was possible.

Unaware of their audience, Sabine, his lover for the night, continued to bob on his length. Giles bit back a moan of intense pleasure as the dual attention stirred every sense he possessed.

Thin, ghostly fingers twisted into the folds of her rumpled white shroud as if nervous, though what a ghost could be nervous about escaped him.

Although he would have liked to prolong the moment, his lover’s efforts were producing pleasurable results. Sabine had her hand cupped around his stones, so Giles gave up on the soulless ghost in favor of the warmth of mouth and fingers.

He curled his hand around his lover’s neck and closed his eyes to focus, enjoying the wet lips encircling him. Pleasure clutched his spine and he thrust his hips forward, impatient for sweet oblivion to claim him. After four good strokes of hand and tongue, his whole body pulsed and shivers raced down his legs at the force of his much-needed release.

Yet when he raised his lids to view the room, disappointment stung. The ghost had vanished into the night as if she’d never been.